


So Close To Magic

by MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Saviour, Negan (Walking Dead) is his own warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Second Person, dwight - Freeform, simon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo/pseuds/MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo
Summary: You worked hard to get here, for long months you worked thanklessly to finally become a top ranking female saviour.   Then there's Negan and that's it's own problem.





	1. So Close To Magic

It hits you late one night, curled up on the sofa with that godforsaken ache throbbing in the centre of your chest.  You're on the verge of shooting at the wall when the door of the parlour creaks open.  So lost in thought are you that you don't hear footsteps on the stairs as you usually would before it opens abruptly.  You turn to look over your shoulder.  "Negan?"  Your leader smiles, tired but sincere as he shrugs off his jacket throwing the beaten up leather on a chair alongside his barbed wired accomplice.      

"Right where I left you, eh?"  A scan of his body takes seconds, and it's an effort to keep your tone nonchalant when you ask,

"She was fucking him then, I take it?"  Something squeezes in your stomach, recalling Negan's scowl from a few hours ago.  You'd heard mumblings, whispers from the other Saviors about Mark skirting his duties in favour of his very _ex_ girlfriend Amber who happened to be one of Negan's favourite Wives.  You'd heard whispers; which meant, obviously, that you needed to say something.

You were fiercely loyal by design and being entwined with the Saviors magnified the trait. Back before all this you might have felt guilty for ratting out Amber and Mark, you might have even helped them meet - but not now.   It was every man for himself out here and you couldn't imagine yourself letting them get away with it, especially now that Joey had been killed clearing up after Mark's mess. 

The scraping of a heavy chair makes you look up, Negan throws himself into the seat and the table creaks as heavy boots slam down to rest comfortably.  He stretches out, leaning back to grab a decanter of Scotch, revealing a scattering of dark hair crawling underneath his shirt.  The slight glimpse steals your attention until his voice rolls like thunder in the otherwise silent room.

"I gave her damn _choice."_  He trails off, downing the amber liquid in one gulp. You wait, heart thrumming impatiently.  "I gave her a motherfucking choice and she still disobeys me?!"   

You look up at him, at the thick coating of salt and pepper over his chin, the way his jaw ticks as he muses, the flare of his nostrils as he pours more scotch into fresh glasses.  You look up at the extended limb, the curl of his fingers around the intricate glass, the subtle way the liquor matches his eyes.

"Here, you deserve it."

You can't deny that fact.  You worked hard to get here; scrubbing toilets at first, then the kitchen. For long months you worked thanklessly to finally get noticed by Dwight of all people! _How ironic._  It wasn't easy, but now being one of Negan's top Saviors you know it had all been worth it.   So, you drink chugging back the bitter liquor.  You don't notice his eyes on you until he pours another, and within seconds you take him in.  He looks vaguely surprised.  The red, cotton scarf.  Plain white tee, perfectly emphasising what fitness this world and a simple diet allows.  Soft tan skin and an easy sideways smile. 

You think of him, the simple way he stalks around.  The way the dwindling light seems to cradle his face in such a way you're sure one touch of his jaw would slice to the bone. You wonder how just one look could bring you to your knees.  You wonder _why?_

You release a breath you didn't realise you were holding.  Clearing your suddenly rough throat, and manage a simple;

"What?" In reply.  For a few moments it's deadly silent. You're heating up. All over, an abrupt nervous flush, a confusing pull in the pit of your stomach. You quickly find yourself thankful for the evening dim that the sky casts over the room.

"Don't you have a job to do?"

It's abrupt and harsh.  The spell is broken instantly.  You freeze, afraid you'd pissed him off, toed the line he'd put in place.  You remind yourself that he's in charge and you are not.  After all, you're still under his thumb, despite not working for points.  It's like a slap in the face.

You press your lips together swallowing hard and flex shaking fingers.  Tearing your eyes away from his, you're confident now that with the nervous tremble gone it's okay to stand.  Licking your lip, you nod excusing yourself quickly.  It wasn't this often you felt like a fool;  People liked you.  The _men_ respected you. You are seen as an equal.  Even on occasion, a few of the teenage girls around the Sanctuary would come and ask for self defence lessons.  But right now, you felt small. 

Shaking your head, you sigh.  Regretting the late night thoughts of the leader so many have the good sense to fear, you curse yourself for even waiting for his return in the first place.

_Right where I left you eh?_

You don't know why those words echo in your ears the way they do.  Why they make an involuntary smile turn up the corners of your mouth.  You despise it.  Vulnerable wasn't something you let yourself become easily.  

There were a few steps before the threshold of the door, a few more and you'd be scott free to brood in self loathing alone and in peace but the gravelly, warm sound of Negan calling your name halts your course.

You're hesitant in your turn towards him, worried what sour look or harsh orders might await you.

"For a badass, you're cute when you blush."  Surprise makes you still. Staring wide eyed, not quite believing that those words had come from his mouth.  But you don't miss the smirk twitching at the edge of Negan's mouth, and you _definitely_   don't misinterpret the way warmth pools in your lower stomach.

It stretches on forever, the moment of silence, the struggle of finding something witty to say but your normal humour is nowhere to be seen, leaving you drowning. 

You think of the Wives, the moans and slamming of metal against concrete, the crush of skulls and wet flop of guts against the pavement.  Anything to deter your brain from wandering dangerously toward inappropriate but fail miserably.  You can't take the tension for much longer and head to leave. 

Negan obviously isn't satisfied by your silence and beings to laugh. 

"Alright Doll, get that sweet ass to redirect before you fucking implode!" 

 

With that you turn away from him, crossing quickly into the hall.


	2. Letter Painted Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You worked hard to get here, for long months you worked thanklessly to finally become a top ranking female saviour. Then there's Negan and that's it's own problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't originally intend on having this as more than a writing excersice for Second Person POV/Negan but you guys seem to like it and I have so many ideas! I really hope you like it! Please don't forget to leave a review, I'm itching to see what you think of this one!

"What's wrong with you?"

As far as you are concerned, everything's peachy. But Dwight, is perceptive. How did you even think for a second you could get away with it?

"I'm fine."  _Once again with feeling?_  You almost felt the roll of Dwight's eyes even before turning to look and just as predicted he's there, leaning against the redirect van with his trademark _I call bullshit_ look plastered across the somewhat marred features of his face.

What is there to say?  What do you say? _Oh hey, Negan complimented my ass not an hour ago. What do you think of that?_ Perhaps not.

"It's just Joey, you know. It sucks that he's gone." 

You thought you'd be feeling worse about your reaction to Joey, but there's no escaping the fact that he was a lazy son of a bitch and the only thing - albeit the most important task he was good at was this.  Damn redirect. 

"Oh. I figured you were still mad about Eli."

You realize in the moment that it hasn't been that long, in fact it's barely been two months but somehow this is the first time you let it in, let the realisation hit.  But before you can even think of a sane reaction, Dwight must realize his mistake;

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. Look I didn't mean to---"

"It's ok, no big deal.  Come on, I don't wanna be Walker chow. Pass me the pack."

You look up at Dwight, he's frowning as if trying to work out a complex puzzle. He leans down slightly, passing the pack towards your outstretched palm.  Seemingly satisfied with your genuine smile, he returns to fixing the rest of the charges, handing them to Davy and Stan who rush quickly to their positions awaiting your order.

Crouching low, you fiddle with the flimsy wires of another device. God knows where Negan got these things from, probably some poor unfortunate survivor from the new guys’ camp.  Either way, you didn't care much.  In fact, you were glad as it benefitted the sanctuary and that's all that matters.

"Okay, let's get back to the truck set these damn things off and get home!" You shoot a toothy grin in Dwight's direction, then again at Laura who stands warily off to the side.  It's been a while since you had a new recruit and you don't forget that feeling of apprehension and anxiety knowing that one of these trips could actually result in your death.  So, you reach out to the blonde, squeezing her shoulder.

"All good?" 

It works and she smiles back looking overall much more at ease.  _See, making friends is easy._

Since arriving at the Sanctuary, making much more than acquaintances wasn't high on your priority list.  _Hell -_ nothing but making it through the day with more than a meagre helping of food was a priority back then. Especially considering the state you'd been found upon arriving.  But now, things were different. _Better._

"Okay. Ready?" 

"3,2,1...GO!"

_Three seconds. A tiny flicker, barely a blip in time.  It's the peaceful and calm moment as you wake where everything is normal and nothing hurts.  It doesn't last long. It never will._

_By a desperate effort, you start to right yourself, breaking from a sort of conscious sleep, gazing wildly around the tiny shack as if the rotters were anywhere but in your haunted mind.  Your eye searches for an anchor, whatever may remind you of the living world. Noting the Ravenclaw backpack you begin to relax, but their faces - the sound of tearing flesh you only thought existed in twisted Horror flicks lingered ringing in your ears. The blood and torn skin, it's image remains in your mind's eye._

_Then comes the hunger. At first it's dry lips, involuntarily you lick them yet they dry almost instantaneously. They're pale and thin, he'd told you once before that they were your best feature, you almost feel his tongue lick the plush pouting bottom lip - but it's just your own again._

_It's not often hunger is associated with much pain, it's usually just a craving that can easily be quashed. But that world, that luxury is gone. And it hurts. The last sips of water disappeared hours ago, it stopped the raw but only for a while.  It always comes back, as if to punish you for fooling it into thinking it was being fed._

_You try to sleep again, sometimes it lets you. But today is not that day._

 

It's happy, when you arrive.  Everyone's here without a scratch, redirect went without a hitch - all the markings of a good day.  If you don't count the strange morning with Negan and--

"Home sweet _home.."_   

You're about to say something, but the words shatter against your teeth as you follow Dwight's intense gaze.  It's a look you've become accustomed to over the last year.  What's left of his right eyebrow crushes down around his eye as the recipient of the sad glare approaches.  But after a closer look, you see they're not alone.

Soon, you find yourself itching to find a distraction so you usher Laura to the side, guilty abandoning Dwight but you know he'll have much more to deal with in a few seconds. 

"Hey, Laura? Help me with these would you?" You go to ask but she's not paying attention, in fact her face resembles that of Dwight's but it's a stare of a different kind entirely. Your fingers buzz and clench against sweaty palms but you focus on the guns, willing yourself not to backhand the young woman around the head. 

"Laura."  You're teetering on the edge of annoyed when you ask again but in fact you realize that she only has eyes for _Dwight?_

_Ridiculous._

Mentally you scold yourself, shoving the entirely misplaced and frankly confusing wave of jealousy to the side, focusing on the new information you've deduced. 

The world went to shit a while ago, but humans are still human. Well mostly.

A small part of you can't fault Laura for fawning over Dwight, because what's not to love? He's loyal almost to a fault, definitely to a fault.  He's saved countless people's lives, even if they didn't deserve it and _god_ he's even being semi decent to the prisoner - if you're perceptive enough to see it.  

But you know that's not how things work. Everyone knows that Dwight will always love Sherry, even if she's with Negan - you might be the only one that knows that they had a baby before all this, that they had plans to run not long ago.  So, you persist, nudging Laura to help you unload and take supplies back to the Kitchen staff and inventory girls. 

Once finished you sit casually on the bed of the truck, overseeing from a safe distance that everything is finished to Negan's standards.  That 'safe distance' though is quickly tested as the man himself turns and walks toward the vehicle. 

"You and Dwighty boy did fucking good today!" Negan smiles brightly in your direction, swinging Lucille up and over his shoulder happily.  He's not wrong. Your first redirect went much better than expected but it's hard to take the compliment, especially from someone who prefers showing his compliments in other ways.  But _that_ thought you banish quickly, still not having stopped to process your interaction from earlier. 

"It went better than I expected!"  You scoff, feeling the first wave of pride take hold.  It's nice, to be thanked for potentially life risking work after a past of not much thanks at all.  But pride is laced with a touch of nerves you've never felt before, not in regards to Negan _ever._  

He's a savage, brutal man who adores violence and chaos. You know he delights in the shock value his punishments and attitude have to those around him.  Negan manipulates and domineers over the people under his thumb.  But he's also strong, practical and reasonable. You don't know when that became enough to overlook the long list of negatives.

Well, not really.

"So.."  You turn once again, trying to repress an involuntary shiver that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.  You almost frown, because this is not what you do - lose your well maintained composure around a man who burned half of your closest friends face off!  But you can't help but carry on staring, waiting for the rest of his sentence.

"Now, you did a badass job out there today." Negan pauses abruptly, all teeth and wolf eyes as he regards you.  It's unsettling. You're embarrassingly nervous, terrified he's digging through the thoughts that roll around your head when you can't sleep at night.  You feel a fool.

But you didn't expect to hear what he had to say, not at all.

"I have a proposition for you, listen carefully.  How about you run redirect for me, damn you're better than Fat Joey ever was! Even the new ones came back will all their fucking limbs intact. And _that_ is a fucking miracle by my standards." 

"One time offer. You can stay as one of my Saviours, or sail to the top of the ranks and sit pretty.  Your call."

Fuck. _Fuck._  

You can't help the flash in your mind, it's white hot and so unfamiliar you think you've forgotten what the hell that feels like.  Lust.

God damn it. 

The slight breeze from the swing of Lucille brings you back, it's been silent for too long and even Sherry who stands disregarded beside him looks done with the situation.  _She looks damn tired._ Your brain wanders, but instinctively you pull it back and conjure up an answer.

"Sure, why not." 

Negan lets out an exhale, almost as if he'd been waiting with baited breath. 

It's nerves, you know that - the way the unsettling feeling scratches at the insides of your stomach.  It's the only reason why you feel the unbearable urge to roll your shoulders and head inside as quickly as you can.  Or so you think.  But the sounds of walkers behind you make you unsteady and lose focus on Negan just for a second, but it builds until you can't help but turn to see what the hell is making your body so on edge.

You're met by blue eyes, even surround by dirt and dried blood they're still as sharp as the day you first saw them.  The glare starts something, a crawling frost coating your bones, like being naked in the middle of a hailstorm where every chunk of ice is a frosted dagger cutting into your skin.

"Fucking marvellous! Now---" 

You can't breathe.  The inexplicable feeling roots your feet to the spot and even when Negan strides to your side you can react.

"What the fuck, do you think you're fucking doing?!" Negan roars, riling up the walkers surrounding the workers on the fence. It should make you jump, you know it should but you stand stock still.

The long stretch of silence irritates the tall shadow of a man beside you, even in the paralytic state you find yourself in the goosebumps still make you shudder.

"Do you wanna die and become a permanent asshole on the spike?!"

"No, Sir."

"Well then. Get the fuck back to work, I catch you looking anywhere but that fence on the job again. I swear to fucking god - I'll kill you myself." 

You don't remember being walked back inside. Even as Negan gripped your arm, you didn't react much at all.  There's only one thing circulating around your head, his gaze is still as sharp and piercing as ever.  

_Eli._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed, I know not much happened but it's an important set up for the rest of the story. Don't worry, questions will be answered.


	3. Before The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter, hope everyone enjoys!

There had been a few close calls since leaving the city, you'd been witness to the death of countless friends and strangers but you'd never felt the icy grip of imminent death until this very moment.

He tugs desperately, grasping at the loose material of the jacket.  Over and over again he tries to haul you to your feet but with weeks of little sustenance, every ounce of energy is focused on keeping  breathing.  You'd fallen into a numb kind of stasis and after a while of stumbling you found yourself unable to tell the difference between walking and floating.  You know it's dangerous, being out in the open and so vulnerable.  If you're both to survive you have to head into the trees and fast.  It's not like you'd planned a path, nothing was familiar - the city you knew but here in the middle of nowhere you were both at a serious disadvantage.  

Minutes had passed and Eli must have given up in his attempts to drag you forward; the pain had gone, you were really floating this time. 

You sag lifelessly against his front and the sounds of begging muffle as if underwater.  You were tired and it was cold, but Eli's jacket kept you warm.  In his arms you buried your face in the sheepskin collar, in the brief streams of consciousness  you could smell the last year of your life: wood fires, cigarette smoke and underneath of it all, the sweet spicy scent of Eli's cologne, and the close air of his classroom.

_You were going to die._

"Wake up, _please.."_

Three seconds.  Again, barely a blip in time.  Nothing hurt and it was almost peaceful.  Then it comes again; raw scraping scratches shredding the lining of your stomach into red ribbons.  This time there was no water to cool your organs, just the soft words of Eli who sat hunched over your body his cold hands support your head and neck.   You manage a weak smile as your bleary eyes blink open.  He seems confused, thick black brows pull down and you can't blame him, being on deaths door doesn't really warrant happiness but you're alive and even in this world that means something.

"Oh thank god.." He breathes, pressing down onto your shoulders as you try to sit up.  You gaze wildly around the tiny shack you've been placed in and take a deep breath.

"Where are we?"

 It wasn't like Eli to keep quiet, he was distracted, he'd given you a quick once over before stumbling away into the background. 

You thought of moving, but the thin blanket was warm around your shivering frame. It hurt to speak or even swallow so you lay quietly, trying anything to distract from the pain. Every movement pulled at your dry cracked skin, you tried to remain optimistic after all you weren't alone.

"Eli.." You rasp, ignoring the twinge in your muscles as you pull yourself to sit up.

It took a few seconds to recognise his lean figure hunched over his backpack, rifling in the multitude of pockets.  What if he'd dropped his gun?  It was the only one he had and since yours had run out of bullets back in the city, without his slim semiautomatic you would both be as good as dead. 

You'd seen it, over and over again.  The bullets would run out and people would have no choice but to fight tooth and nail to survive, but the inevitable always happened.  They always die.

"Eli.."  You breathe, it hurts and every breath is like pulling in sawdust - it's nearly time, you'd known that for a while, deep down. 

You can see it plain as day in the sweet man across the room as he stares, chewing on his tongue.  It won't be long now.

"It's okay.  I have everything ready.  I won't be long.." 

Eli crosses the floor, cradling your weak limp body in his warm arms.  You wanted to say no, tell him it's too dangerous to go alone but you needed food, water, supplies and he was strong despite the lack of food he was more resilient than you had ever given him credit for when you fled together.

You were tired.  Barely able to see through the exhaustion when he left, the last thing you remembered of that night was his back, retreating through the small beat up shack and into the trees. 

 

Dread is a unexplainable feeling, you can only think to describe it in one word; wrong.  You feel it, building  like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of your stomach.  As soon as your eyes open everything is the same, the broken table, the blood stain but it's not that simple - it never is.

You try to sit up, but can't.  You don't know what's happening, small pieces of yesterday come back but none fit together.  It's disorientating and nerves prick at your skin, you knew it wasn't right. 

It must be the malnutrition, the lack of food starting to mess with your head because you started to recall the last time you had this feeling.  Back in the city, your world was on the cusp of collapse as you stood in a stuffy room, but goosebumps covered your skin that wasn't covered by your sweater.   Your leg bounced nervously, a heavy weight settled in your chest when Eli left and the door slammed shut. 

Then someone screamed.  You remember the panic, the hysteria.  Everyone at the school ran like a flock of sheep scared by the howl of the wolf and in an instant the multitude dispersed. 

"Eli.." You find your voice and by some miracle start to stand.  You don't know what time it is, but the sun shines high through the broken roof in zig zags against the bare wooden floor.    

"Eli!" it's a strain, but you still yell hoping he'd hear - hoping he just went to pee or something mundane.  _Please no._   Fright consumes every cell in your body, swelling them with terror.  Within seconds you'd scoured the room, it was dusty and bare.  No backpack. No gun.  No Eli.

"Don't be an ass Eli.."  You're crying, but can't feel the water rolling through the dirt that cakes your skin.  You know adrenaline is the only thing that's keeping you upright and suddenly feel grateful for it, you can't die.  Not without knowing.

"Eli.. Please.." You sob, stumbling in your too big shoes to fall into the dust at the front steps.

You call again, heart racing faster - no answer. 

He was supposed to be back. The nearest town was miles away and the car had run out of gas but he was strong.  Eli wasn't the type to give up, you'd seen that with your own two eyes when he tore into the soft eyes of a dead one just to find his way over to you amongst the crowd. 

A branch cracks in the distance, a hungry moan filters through the trees and you know you can't stay here.  You're completely defenceless and the adrenaline is ebbing with every second that passes. You'll never make it if you stay.  So you try again, once more as if it would make any difference; you call out, it's a risk but you can't bear for him to be gone.. 

" _ELI!"_   

You barely had time to listen for a reply before a figure lunged out, breaking the side of your vision.  You are still too weak to fight, you scream but the muscle memory forces its way through the pain in your spindly limbs and you grapple with the man in your grasp.

It's covered in blood, dragging warm hands desperately into your flesh pulling and pulling and for a second you hear something, a choking splutter through blood and teeth that hang by threads out of its mouth. 

"Help, me..." 

And it's still for a moment.  The spinning stops, the adrenaline seeps from your body and you can do nothing but stare at this stranger. 

There is a distance in his eyes as he takes a few steps backward, bumping into something you don't see.  The look in his eyes you've seen before, but not on him, or on a person for that matter.  It's the look you've seen in the horses' eyes when they came in for schooling at the ranch you once visited; wild, not even knowing what people are.   It doesn't belong on his face and it scares you. 

Then he bends over double, mangled hands on his knees, struggling for breath. 

"Eli?" You sob, the blood soaked face of the stranger morphs sending you stumbling backwards in utter fear.  

"P-please."  The stranger splutters, blood trickling down congealing into a sick puddle in the hairs of his beard. 

Green red rimmed eyes stare wide back at you and it sends you to the ground, fighting with the darkness that tugs at the edge of your vision. 

_Pain, cold, darkness._

A flash of red hits your weakened vision, unfamiliar voices and whistles pierce your ear drums. The man so desperate for your help screams loud, flailing his broken extremities as he tries to escape the men that surround him.  They don't see you, they seem to ignore your shallow helpless breaths and you hope to god that death takes you quick.  

Death comes for you, the dark shadow stalking toward your limp body with open arms but not before grinning at the other warm body in the clearing. 

The last thing you see before complete blackness is the glinting of barbs against the midday sun shining bright before slamming down over and over into the skull of someone who needed your help.

It was over.  You were at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just wouldn't happen, I hope it turned out okay and you all enjoyed it. Please let me know, reviews are a great motivator ;)


	4. I know he knows he killing me for mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This picks up where chapter 2 left off, re read if you fancy!

 How had you let him do this?  A man that was so callous and cruel had so much power in that moment.  Even the roar of your leader did nothing to quell the cold hard stare that put ice in your bones and a shake in your limbs.  As you pass  through the gates, you begin to register a tight grip on your arm.  You try your hardest not to pull away out of pure reflex, but Negan's gloved hand is warm and to your surprise somewhat comforting.  It goes against everything you know about this man but you can't help but smile shyly at the ground. 

"You alright?" His deep voice rasps, prompting you to look up at him.

A broad question.  How can you even begin to explain what you're feeling, not two days earlier he was complimenting your ass and now defending you to the man you were sure that had died back then. 

"Fine. Thanks for that.." You find your voice, realising you were free from his grip you shuffle backward but don't make it more than a few steps before he touches you, frowning down hard at what you assume must be a particularly intense expression. 

 You were never one for subtlety, that itself could be a two way street;  on the upside you knew everyone on the team obeyed your orders without question and you didn't hold back when they stepped out of line.  But this life doesn't call for weakness and something squeezes in your stomach an instinctual fear that you had shown the very man in charge of your own life a slither of weakness.  You're on the cusp of running in the opposite direction as the silence continues, but Negan speaks before you can take a step.

"That fucker is getting everything he deserves.  If it wasn't for you I'd string that motherfucker up by his balls and leave him for dead."  You don't speak, it's hard to even form words through the nervous quiver in your throat, so you settle for a nod and follow Negan's lead back inside. 

 

You're reassembling a handgun when Dwight finds you, he's been smoking and you know instantly what that meant.  You know they have been meeting, the specifics he kept close to his chest and for that you're thankful, after what happened you thought he just might have learned his lesson. 

"You're an asshole."  You grit your teeth, continuing to face away from him if you're honest you didn't trust yourself not to scream at him for being so damn irresponsible.  You don't even have to look at him to know what was happening, he's ashamed. 

"Don't lecture me, I didn't come here for a kicking."  A small part of you is sad, sad for the both of them having to sneak around whether they're fucking or not but after ratting out Mark and Amber it's the guilt that keeps your back to him. 

"What do you want Dwight, I'm busy. If you didn't know, I've been promoted.."  You scoff, still finding yourself unable to believe that Negan thought you worthy.   Not to mention the careless flirting still weighed on your mind.  

"I wanted to talk about Eli.." 

You can't repress the frustrated sigh and there's no doubt in your mind that Dwight had once again realised his mistake. 

"Dwight.  Can you fucking not."  The fury comes rushing to the surface.  He shouldn't be pushing this, you don't understand why he's so fucking invested. 

"You have to talk about it, it wasn't his fault." 

You feel it then, the hot shock of fury tumbling down your arms.   You fly round, sending the gun hurtling toward an unsuspecting Dwight. 

"What the fuck do you know! " You scream, watching him avoid the flying pieces but not before one bounces off his forehead. 

He's aghast, mouth open in utter shock that you'd even raise your voice.  He's your best friend, you'd kept secrets for him, holding back from exposing him and Sherry to Negan and he had the audacity to question your actions. 

"Easy.."  Dwight tries, flaying his hands out in surrender, but you've had enough. 

"No, _no._  How fucking dare you Dwight! Let me make this clear; you know nothing."  Pulse racing, mouth twisted in a snarl you look him dead in the face finally facing the feelings you'd been holding back for so long.

"He nearly killed me Dwight, but you didn't even stop to _think_ why I didn't say anything to you!" You yell, he tries to cut in but you give him no respite. 

"When we found him outside the walls I couldn't believe it!  I thought he was dead! He left me to get supplies and didn't come back! _I thought he was dead!"_  

You know Dwight won't be convinced, there's no conceivable reason for your anger toward Eli but little did he know there was more to this than he ever knew.

"I was so fucking overwhelmed to see him again I didn't even ask why he was still alive!"  You're struggling not to cry and hate yourself for being so weak!  After everything it felt like a step back, opening a wound that was slowly closing.  Damn Dwight for shoving his nose where it doesn't belong. 

"He..didn't tell me.  You know he kept his distance but you know Simon interviews the new arrivals.." 

"But.."  Dwight tries

"Eli tried to talk to me, and I was scared.  Can you fucking imagine seeing someone from back home, after something like that.  I thought he was dead!"  You breathe, trying to muster up the courage to reach the climax. 

"You think it's not his fault. That he thought I was dead and anyone would do the same. But Negan... He saw I was scared and took an interest.  I don't know what happened Dwight, I don't know what Negan did to him but what he told me..."  You're crying, Dwight blurs in front of you and you have to grip the table for support - the feelings are so strong you can almost feel the scratch of hunger and anguish returning.

"Eli admitted it. He compared me to an _animal._  He told Negan I was so weak, he said there was nothing he could have done and it was like hitting a deer!  Like he pulled me off the road so I wouldn't get hit again while I was dying.  So my death would be long and painful instead of quick and violent.  He acted like I was some kind of fucking road kill!" 

You cry between breaths, shoving Dwight's concerned touch away you cower like a child sliding down against the floor to crumple in on yourself.

"You don't have to tell me anymore..it's okay.."

"It's not Dwight. You've not even heard the best fucking part.." You find yourself laughing, it's sick and twisted but you can't stop it and erupt into disbelief.

"I was always hungry, our supplies ran out quick but I didn't think anything of it.  But I get it now. While I was getting weaker he stayed the same and didn't even complain once!  I kept dreaming about it, as I laid in that shack I heard him get ready to leave and I remembered something!"

You don't want to admit it, it hurts so bad that someone you thought cared for you would do something so disgustingly callous but you knew Dwight needed to hear this.  Maybe he'd stop being so judgmental. 

"It took me a while of sleepless nights but I finally put the pieces together.  He'd been eating all the food, he'd been starving me and I was _oblivious!_   He admitted it, he told people.  He bragged!"  You cry, wiping furiously at the tears that pool at the bottom of your neck. 

Dwight crouches down, gripping your hands tight.  The look in his brown eyes is something you've never seen before, it's vengeful.

"Why isn't he?  Why did Negan keep him alive?"

In that moment you wish this had never happened, you could have just kept quiet and let Dwight say his piece and move on but you had been strong for so long. 

"I told him to." watching as Dwight processed the crushing blow you feel the cold wash of guilt fill your veins. 

"You did fucking what!" He roars, rushing forward to grasp your upper arms forcing you to meet his hard gaze. Your eyes cast down in shame, it's unbearable.

"Negan wanted to kill him.  But I convinced him not to.  You can't fight fire with fire Dwight, I didn't want to let him off with dying.  It's too easy!  He needs to suffer, like I did." 

Dwight doesn't understand, the look in his eyes tells you that much.  If you weren't so close you'd rib him for crying but in the year you'd known him you had been through so much.  You hated Negan for what he did, and a part of you still does - he scalded Dwight's face in the worst way possible and that was your first experience with your leader.  But something had happened, Dwight saw potential and helped change your perception of Negan, but in this second you know someone as loyal as Dwight couldn't stand the choice in keeping someone so cruel alive.

"Negan doesn't listen to anyone!  Negan wants you dead, you're dead and no one not even I could get in his way.  Why the hell did he regard what the fuck you wanted!"  Dwight was screaming now, shaking you around like a rag doll in his arms, ignoring the sobs and pitiful explanation you try to give. 

You say nothing, but inwardly you know he has a point.  Negan is a force of nature, a predator and he listened to you - someone lower in the ranks with no influence of any kind.  You hadn't noticed before, but Dwight's concern bought it rushing to the forefront of your mind. 

"What did you do for him?!"  The man in front of you suddenly shouts, pulling you onto your feet in an easy move. 

"Nothing.  Dwight please don't be ridiculous!" You plead, grateful for him being so caring but it was starting to scare you.

"You know what he's like, he took my _wife._   You know him! He doesn't do anything for anyone but himself and  if he did it definitely wouldn't be without something in return!"

"Dwight stop it! You're scaring me!"  You plead, trying to break his hold.  But suddenly he stops, holding your arms staring right in your eyes.

" Fucking hell, I should have known!  I thought I was way off base, he's been looking at you differently lately. Now I know why!"  

You try to warn him, shake off his hands and stop what would become a disastrous situation for your friend but Dwight is too busy ranting to hear the commotion at the door of the armoury.

"You're fucking him, aren't you?!" 

You gasp, fixing on the door with wide eyes. 

"Dwighty boy!  What the fucking _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I'm sorry there wasn't really any Negan! Now the backstory is flushed out more we can get to the good stuff! 
> 
> Please comment & let me know what you thought!


	5. Pack Mentality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought, love to hear from people!

The sight of Negan's raven head sets your heart racing, he's haunting the doorway, Lucille tight in his leather clad grip. Unconsciously you take a step back, but the cool metal of the table presses into your back and you can do nothing but stare wide eyed.   It's barely a few seconds before his fast footfalls pound against the floor.  

Standing stock still, the scene moves fast.  In an instant Dwight is grasped by the collar and pushed to the ground, you try to intervene but Negan yells echoing off the concrete walls of the armoury.

"Negan, what are you doing?!"

"Quiet. Just because we have a fucking arrangement it doesn't give you any motherfucking right to talk to me.  I own you. "  You hold your breath,  finding yourself backing up under his powerful stare.  The look doesn't last long, his eyes flash down and the dark expression turns into something much more menacing.  You know this won't end well but to your surprise Dwight doesn't look scared, he's despondent and blank, and it's scaring you. 

You watch in fear as Negan bends down, Lucille swings mere inches from Dwight's head on the descent. Your flinch goes unnoticed they seem to disregard you.

"Answer me. _Dwighty boy._ What did I walk into."  There was a question you yourself didn't know the answer to, watching the exchange your fingers tremble curling into a fist as you recall the heated argument.  It was your fault, screaming and crying had alerted Negan and it had somehow spiralled into a dangerous confrontation.  You knew how this could go, Dwight had so much animosity it could easily boil over and it was your fault.  But you knew better than to step in.  

"I thought you were, together."   There's no tremble, no fear as you expected. Dwight the man who had everything taken away from him holds his head up and speaks with conviction right into the eyes of certain death.   Your arms reach to hug your body tight as an unfamiliar feeling digs into your chest.

"Well, well _well!_ Dwighty boy!  I seem to fucking recall screaming and manhandling one of your OWN!"   There's a scuffle and Dwight is quickly intercepted to come face to face with Negan his back toward your panicked stare.  You know what Negan is capable of, you've seen firsthand and it fills you with dread.  

"You thought we were fucking eh?"  Negan laughs, deep and long he takes a moment to stare at you, smiling all teeth and golden eyes.  The interaction lasts barely a second but it sends a shockwave through your entire body.  Any other day you would have laughed it off, but there's no response, you can barely breathe.

" I fucking remember being turned down by sweetass over there and damn Dwighty boy, I can't give up my _favourite_ fucking wife now can I? Hm.." 

That's when it changes, Dwight's shoulders turn to steel and you can almost feel the anger radiating from him.  Instead of riling Negan up, it seems to entertain him. It's starting to make you feel a little sick, if you're honest. You tighten your grip on the table behind you and try not to look at anyone, but as hard as you try Negan demands your attention.   

He holds your gaze as he talks through the static on the walkie at his hip. 

"Arat. Get to the Armoury, take Dwighty to the fucking hole." 

There's a muffled reply then silence.   If you hadn't been so damn stupid and lost your cool, none of this would have happened, you knew that, a part of you wants to plead with Negan but the rational side of your brain pulls you back.  It'll just make Dwight's punishment worse.  

The scene moves in front of you, but you remain still unable to process what the hell just happened.  When you remember where you are, your brain short circuits.

"You alright?" 

You fumble forwards, barely trusting your legs to move properly.  In other circumstances you would be able to control the nerves that come with Negan's presence but they're replaced with utter exhaustion.  Who knew confessing your demons would be so tiring, but it's not over, of course it's not. 

"Since Dwight can't control his fucking self,  you're gonna give our new guest his clothes and shit." Negan grumbles, leading you toward the exit.  But before you get there he turns on his heel and stares you down once again.  He's so close you can smell the worn black leather and hints of barely there cologne underneath it's heady and almost pushes you to take a step back. 

Gulping down a sigh, in fear of making your anxiety known you give him a small smile hoping he'd say something before you start babbling.

"You up for this?" 

"Yes."   If you were honest, you would ask to have the day off and retreat back to your room for the evening but it's not and has never been like you to quit, not even now.  So, you push on and follow Negan into the grounds of the sanctuary.

You've not been back here for a long time, he leads you toward a small separate building adjacent to the fence.  An unsettling feeling scratches at your skin, you've felt it before and struggle to focus. 

"This is where the lowest of the fucking low reside!  A fucking hole in the wall, no light, nothing but a fucking bucket to shit in. It's gonna be ripe in there, don't be afraid to knock him down a peg if he gets rowdy!"  Negan yells, smashing the bat into the door over and over again, a nasty wake up call to whoever resides inside. 

You're nervous, that's clear.  You don't deal with this part, this is the job usually given to the men.  Back before all this you'd have rolled your eyes and moaned about the sexism of it all, but as the door swings open you realise why.

_Jesus Christ.._

Just the smell sends you toppling backwards, having to lean on the wall in fear of puking all over the place. 

"Get him ready. We're going to see our pal Rick!"  Negan chuckles, slamming Lucille down against the grimy floor, there's a shuffle from inside in response.  

"I hope you've got a strong stomach!"  His voice resonates through you as he retreats, warmly patting your shoulder as he passes.    It almost makes you melt, living in this world, doing the job you do doesn't give much in the way of human contact but you can't dwell on it.  You have a job to do.

There's no movement from the dark, it reeks and you almost vomit again as you stand at the entrance.  The floor is covered in grime and flecks of vomit, even pictures of Negan's victim cover the wall above the figure.  Whoever it is barely moves, they're hunched up tight pressed against the wall, you have to strain to hear even breathing.

"Move away from the wall." You order, it's shaky but has enough bite to send the prisoner forward, you recall Negan's words and have to purse your lips to stifle a tidal wave of puke. 

How is he still alive?  You blink, once, twice and a third time trying to distinguish if this is real. 

It's a man for starters.  He's naked and caked in so much dirt you're not sure if he's human anymore. Lank greasy hair falls in parts at his shoulders and covers his eyes, but leaves just enough of a gap for you to lock onto his piercing cold stare.

So shocked at his state are you that it takes dropping the scratchy material to the ground to realise they're for him.  He must notice as something changes in his eyes instantly. 

Your face is plastered with disgust at the god damned state of his dwelling, the man's skin peels disgustingly away from the ground to retrieve the clothes you had thrown to him. 

You don't know whether it's sympathy or pity or just guilt that drives your attention away from his form as you decide to give him that small bit of dignity back while he changes.  It's not much, but it's something.  Quickly you're reminded that he's a prisoner, there's a reason he's here; maybe he hasn't shown you why yet, realising you don't want to be there when he does you straighten up and reach for the cool metal of the gun in your belt.

He doesn't flinch, the dirt covered man barely even notices.  You open your mouth to say something, anything when voices in the distance make you jump.

"I fucking told you, you're done soon don't make it worse by pissing about!"  It's Davy, you don't have to be a genius to recognise those dulcet tones!  The closer he gets the more uneasy you feel, you look around before backing away slowly further into the doorway of the cell.

"Oh no." You whisper, swallowing your own fear for the sake of your duties. 

"Heard about your little meltdown in the armoury!" Davey laughs, but you don't have any response. 

The cold dead stare of Eli paralyses you to the spot and you almost wish Negan was here.  It makes you mad, you're strong and don't need a man or anyone to defend you from a bastard who betrayed you but there's no denying your fear as he passes.  Everyone knows what he did, Negan made an example of him in front the entire community before putting him on that wall, even Davy the most ruthless Saviour in Negan's ranks holds him a little tighter than any other prisoners.

"Shut up Davy." It's nothing but a whisper.  You don't even jump when he kicks the door of the open cell and yells inside.

"Going home are you Daryl?!  Ah, wait.."  He chortles, before shoving Eli away to his cell.  You don't need to look, you can already feel the cold glare slicing your back.

So that's his name?  Daryl..  You scan his now clothed form, the name fit and you wonder suddenly what had happened to him, it was plain to see the pain in his eyes through the dirt.  He'd lost something special, someone close at least - maybe more?   But you can't continue, you know objectivity is the practical thing to do with Negan's prisoners, you can't have feelings. 

"Get up."  You snap, rolling both shoulders to steel yourself, building the cold exterior that had been missing recently.   You have to get this done. 

"We're ready boss." Mumbling into the walkie, you manage to grab Daryl, holding the straight jacket like contraption by the back of its neck.

 

The small breeze did nothing to relieve the muggy heat that pressed in on the truck, even sweating was no good.  You had watched over twenty Saviours hop into the truck before you, but as you went to follow Negan pulled you back, urging you to sit up front, it was unexpected and it wasn't like he wanted you to drive, besides weren't you supposed to be looking after Daryl?  More thoughts swarmed on the way to Alexandria, but you put it down to the burn of the afternoon sun and continued to braid your hair away from your face in the small visor mirror.  

You don't think, you imagine Negan's eyes on you but you're here - _Alexandria._

"This place is a fucking goldmine, you see something you want take it!" Negan turns to you with a blinding smile his golden eyes wide and sparkling.  He's infectious and you follow his lead and grin excitedly hopping out the truck to join the mass of Saviours gathered at the looming rust red gates of Alexandria. 

It was natural to be nervous, a new place, a new role but this wasn't the old world; this is the new world order and it was time to buck up.  You must look nervous, just before the gates are pulled to the side you feel a hand squeeze your upper arm in reassurance.  

"Calm the hell down, sweetass keep Daryl in check. These people are assholes."  Negan drawls, lips turning up into something that is mostly a smirk but could be mistaken for a genuine smile if you knew where to look.  But you can't get flustered, the searing heat in your cheeks is down to the hundred degree day you're currently standing in, that's the long and short of it.  You continue the internal coaching, pushing past Negan and the others to take hold of Daryl and steer him towards the front of the crowd. 

Several pairs of concerned eyes zoom in on his decrepit form, a man that Negan knows as the leader strides forward to greet Negan who sways gently Lucille in hand.  You stare on as the leader, _Rick_ ignores Negan and heads straight for you.  It's instinct to clutch harder at the material and pull Daryl away but Negan quickly intercepts.

"Daryl, hey.." 

"No. Nope. He's the help, you don't look at him you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him!" He warns. Negan's voice is steady but it strikes cold fear into the blue eyes of Alexandria's leader who stops still rocking back on unsteady feet.   The man in your grip relaxes as the tension defuses but it's the sigh of a slender frightened looking Latina that pulls your curious attention away from Rick.

She looks terrified, a deer in the headlights that resigned itself to the inevitable; though it makes you uneasy her gaze never falters even when Negan saunters into her eyeline.

"Same goes for everyone, right?" He purrs, the deep gravelly sound reverberates through you, the clench in your stomach makes it impossible to stand still.  Your movement catches the woman's eye as she side steps Negan, shooting him a death cold glare. 

You're soon the recipient of the same knife edge expression.  It stirs something in you, it's menacing and goes straight to your fists.  You don't wince, even when the tips of your nails dig into the cuts on your palm. 

"Daryl.."   The girl steps forward, reaching out for Daryl who lurches backward in your grasp. 

"Don't fucking try asshole." You hiss, snarling her way.  Something twists in your chest, you don't know this woman, she doesn't know you but the urge to lunge hits harder than expected and you can't not flip her the bird for good measure. 

"Damn. There's suspense there.."   And like that it's gone - the intensity, the sharp edge of your anger - it pulls back like the tide, spilling back into the ocean, mixing and sinking.

"MOVE OUT!"  Arat yells, like a cat among the pigeons  everyone scatters breaking off to scour the houses. 

It doesn't take long to collect a mountain of goodies to take home, you expected to feel the pang of guilt that weighed heavy in your chest with Daryl this morning but you found none.  It was exciting, having people respect you, it may be out of fear but no one questions as you root through the cooler and crack open a soda downing the whole thing and discarding it on the road.   At the approaching footfalls you reach down, picking up another Orange soda to hand easily to Negan who almost crushes you he's so close.  Ordinarily you'd flood with anxiety and blush like a schoolgirl but your new found confidence doesn't let it surface.  

"Damn, I love this place!"  He speaks round the drink, but discards it when Stan runs down the steps camcorder in hand. 

_You know me, I've killed people._

"Shit, I would not have messed with that guy! But that's not you anymore, is it?"  He taunts, shoving the device into the red faced Rick.   It's unmistakable to your keen stare, his grip tightens around Lucille but before it becomes a risk Negan's attention hones in on you. 

"Keep that for me! I think I'm gonna fucking need it!"  The camera almost falls to the ground, sweaty palms slide against it but you manage, slipping it into the bag at your side.

"Mm, yeah.." He hums, eyes never leaving yours.  It's not a welcomed stare, being respected is why you do this, why you said no to becoming and wife and worked up to your post but in the moment you can't help but feel a little put out. 

"Alright.  Get your shit!  Daryl, get the fuck out here! We're heading home!" 

It's like a magnet, everyone exits the houses in streams each with arms full of everything from Alcohol to toothbrushes.  A good days work.

It's cooler this time, you sit in the front of the truck, waiting idly for Negan's say so.  You're exhausted and hungry, the deer slumped in the back just waits to be barbequed but you know with Negan there's always one last thing.

_I just slid my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it._

Oh god.

"Hot damn! Let's get home!"  His laughter is drowned out, the blood supply to your normally well skilled brain is sucked out to your toes which clench hard in your boots as the press of your thighs becomes painful.  It takes the slap of his hand against metal to shock you back and start the truck. 

As you pull away, even through the lusty fog that's somehow turned you into a hypocrite you catch the figure standing behind the vehicle, arms folded, her stare takes your breath away.

_Rosita._  

Her dark eyes root themselves into your head the entire journey home, even as you pull up and spot another similar pair of cooler eyes stabbing you in the chest, they're hard to shake.  You should be used to it; three months of death stares every time you exit the building but it never gets easier.

It takes less than half an hour to sort the supplies, your team is efficient and suddenly you're alone.

"Hey."

Or so you thought. 

" _Hey."_   

_Don't respond.  He can't hurt you again._ You rehearse, over and over but he's louder each time.

"You'll have no choice but to talk to me one day!"  

You can't breathe, the air shrinks to nothing.  You don't want to know.  He's messing with you, he has to be.  He's never leaving the wall, Negan promised you that.

"What the ever living hell are you still doing out here? Deer's cooking!"  _Speaking of._

It stops Negan in his tracks, you must look fifty shades of awful because he's by your side in a second searching your features for a response. 

"I'm coming, just... wanted some fresh air." 

You go to leave, side stepping him in a rush but Negan doesn't let up and for once you just wish he'd leave you alone. 

"No. You're coming with me." 

Despite the emotions, the exhausting encounter with Eli and whatever the fuck that was at Alexandria you don't fight him. 

"Come in with me, we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry this took so damn long, I've had killer writers block for the longest time! I hope this makes up for it!

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at writing Negan and second person. I hope you enjoyed it! I was thinking of carrying this on as a drabble if there's enough want for it? I'm over on tumblr as artemisxeros if you fancy saying hi or giving a request!! 
> 
> Reviews are so welcome!


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